


The Initiate and the Weaponsmaster

by SR240



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, How They Met, LGBTQ Character, M/M, Male Slash, Rituals, customs and traditions, world building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21623071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SR240/pseuds/SR240
Summary: The Moonrise Energy Reading was a sacred ritual, one that all assassin initiates knew about since the moment they began training.  Even so, he knew she would walk him through what it was nonetheless - it was tradition.
Relationships: Runaan/Ethari (The Dragon Prince), Runaan/Tinker | Necklace Elf (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 155





	The Initiate and the Weaponsmaster

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I went for a hike through the woods the day after Thanksgiving and couldn't help but notice how much my little corner of the world (a place world-renowned for its natural beauty) looked like Xadia, specifically Silvergrove. I imagined Moonshadow elves running around all over the place, remembered how we're all so excited that The Elf From The Credits Has A Name Now, and this was born. It started as just thinking about the traditions and customs in their society, and kinda morphed into a "how they met" story. I'm placing this about 15 years prior to the start of the series, give or take.
> 
> I upgraded the name of the group from "Moonshadow Elf Assassins" to "Guild of Moonshadow Assassins," since I kind of headcanon that it's a pretty big network all over Xadia, and not just the little group we see in the show. Also, the training customs aren't 100% canon compliant (considering that Rayla seems to have never left her home before the show) but they worked really well for this story and aren't totally out of left field, so YOLO.
> 
> Also there is some nekkid in here, but it's not sexual. Hence the T rating.
> 
> Enjoy!

Runaan had proven himself at minimum adept, but most of the time highly skilled (at a nearly unheard of level, according to the elders and teachers), at mastering many aspects of the assassin arts. He could track a target undetected for miles, without the slightest sound or disturbance betraying his position or footfall. He could take out a mark without said mark having any knowledge whatsoever that they were being followed and with such speed and agility they were never even aware of the moment of their own ceasing to exist. He could handle any blade, of any variety, with the same skill, finesse, and silence that a spider spun its web. He could leap from ledge to ledge and climb from tree to tree without breaking a sweat, could hit a moving target with an arrow with enough precision to split a hair. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, he prided himself on his mastery over his emotions - never betraying fear, nerves or doubt. A true assassin could not allow him or herself to be distracted by such things. Compartmentalizing was the key to success in his line of work, a principle that had been drilled into him since the moment he had picked up his first bow and begun pursuit of this path, 15 years prior.

Which was why it always confused him whenever he found himself stamping down disquietude every time he faced the door of The Great Hall, or, once inside, was in the presence of the elders and the High Priestess. Not that he ever allowed it to register on his face or in his body language - he was far past that - but he would've thought that, after all these years studying and training, he would've learned to feel a bit more comfortable in their presence. 

Especially now, when he had all the more reason to do so. He had passed his final assessments with flying colors, leaving no doubt in anyone's mind - least of all his own - that it was time for full initiation into the Guild of Moonshadow Assassins. He had proven himself, time and time again. He was focused. He was ready. The only logical next step, at this point, was to dive head-first, fully committed, into the real thing. And the ones who had the power to allow that stood on the other side of that thick mahogany entryway.

As if on cue, the door opened. A tall, slender woman with braided hair and piercing violet eyes stepped out, letting the door close gently behind her. He gazed up the small path at her, watching intently as she descended down the stone steps. He stood tall, meeting her gaze in a way he hoped didn't appear as challenging. She nodded at him demurely.

"They're ready for you now, Runaan."

He nodded, and followed her back up the path, keeping a respectful distance between them. She opened the door, stepping aside to allow him to pass through. He took a deep, shaking breath to steady his thumping heart, hoping she hadn't noticed.

If she did, she had the grace to not mention it. Once inside, she closed the door behind them and moved off to the side, disappearing into shadow. He swallowed roughly before beginning his walk down the long aisle leading to the council, seated behind a long table up on an elevated platform, just in front of the alter.

They watched him with great interest as he approached. He lowered his eyes in a gesture of respect and humility before dropping to one knee. 

He knew better than to begin speaking first. Finally, after a heavy silence, the High Priestess's voice rang throughout the hall, soft yet firm.

"Runaan. Thank you for coming here today."

He bowed his head. "My lady."

He heard the rustling of her dress as she moved closer, and could see the outline of its hem in his peripheral vision.

"You have trained well, Runaan."

"Thank you, my lady."

"Do you understand what is expected of you from this day onward?"

He nodded. "I do, my lady."

"Do you promise to dedicate your life to upholding the traditions, customs and moral code of this sacred community?"

"I do."

"Do you swear to always show respect and dignity to yourself and the other members of this sacred community?"

"I do."

"Do you swear to always remember that the lives you will be tasked with taking are precious and sacred, not to take them lightly, and showing them that same respect and dignity in their final moments?"

"I swear, my lady."

"Are you prepared to die in the line of duty?"

He didn't hesitate. "I am."

"You may rise, Runaan."

He obeyed immediately, pressing his palm into the soft carpet to bring himself to his feet. For the first time, he allowed himself to meet the High Priestess's eyes.

While women had never been Runaan's personal preference, he could not deny that the High Priestess possessed a kind of beauty that stopped most people - men and women alike - in their tracks. He never knew whether or not that was purely physical, or if it also had to do with the intense power she possessed, the grace with which she wielded it. Her long silver hair flowed freely, under a crown of flowers, pink and lavender markings dotting her nose, cheeks, shoulders and arms in a swirled pattern that always reminded him of springtime. Her gown shimmered like snow even in darkness, her piercing gray eyes the only thing that didn't seem to radiate vibrant color; yet they were vivid and beautiful all the same. She held a small cup in her delicate hands, twisting the top open in a fluid motion.

She dipped a slender thumb into the pot to scoop up a bit of the oil within. He could feel the gazes of the council members seated at the table behind her - several of them the very same teachers that had played a massive part in getting him to this point - boring into him as she gently smeared a small stripe across his brow. The oil was perfumed with a spice he didn't recognize, but didn't find unpleasant.

"With these vows, we are prepared to offer you full initiation into the Guild."

Unexpectedly, he felt a surge of emotion well up within him. He blinked back a few burning tears, looking down briefly to avoid them being detected. There was something about reaching this place, at last, that felt bigger than him. Bigger than what his heart could handle.

Finally, he found enough composure to look up at her again. "Thank you, my lady."

She finally smiled at him, warmly.

"Thank you, Runaan."

*****

He had been assigned to Silvergrove.

Every Moonshadow elf who chose this path - the assassin's path - knew that the likelihood of ever seeing their birthland again was slim to none. Once you made the choice to train, you left your homeland to travel across Xadia to Aldergrove - the undisclosed capitol of the Moonshadow people since several millennia. Like every Moonshadow dwelling, it could only be accessed through a special "key." The center of political, religious and educational life within their community, initiates spent 15 years there perfecting the art of assassin work - not just the physical aspects, but learning to handle the incredible emotional toll it would inevitably take. 

Most who pursue the path will eventually give up, drop out, and return home. Only those who are truly meant for it - those like Runaan - will remain by the end.

After training was complete and final assessments were passed, every new member of the Guild would be assigned to a community within the Moonshadow Kingdom. Very rarely was the assignment your hometown, and Runaan was sure that was deliberate. The less connections and attachments an assassin had to anything, the better off and safer he or she was, and the cleaner a job they would do.

Silvergrove was smaller than he was used to, especially after so many years abroad, but he couldn't deny he found it charming. He had gotten there that afternoon after a two-week journey from the capitol, timed exactly right to have him arrive in time for the full moon, when the next stage of his initiation would take place.

Miran, one of the sages, had met him at the gate, and brought him through with the dance, promising to perfect it with him later on so he could obtain access in and out as he pleased. She had shown him to his temporary quarters - modest yet comfortable - and had told him to help himself to a bath and a meal before meeting her in the temple in the central square at sunset.

True to her word, she was waiting there when he arrived. He ignored the stares and whispers of the townspeople as he walked. Whenever a new assassin was assigned to a community, there was always much buzz and excitement. Nonetheless, Runaan had never really been one for fanfare or attention. It had always rendered him somewhat uncomfortable.

He stepped into the temple, much smaller than The Great Hall, and not nearly as intimidating. That was no doubt due to Miran's warm smile and welcoming energy. He felt himself relax a bit, and offered his own small smile in return.

"Runaan. Come in."

He approached the front of the aisle, stopping before the alter. Miran held her hands out. He wordlessly provided his own, allowing her to study his palms for a moment before she looked up into his eyes.

"Are you familiar with the Moonrise Energy Reading?"

He nodded. "I am." The Moonrise Energy Reading was a sacred ritual, one that all assassin initiates knew about since the moment they began training. Even so, he knew she would walk him through what it was nonetheless - it was tradition.

"Tonight is the second part of your initiation into the Guild of Assassins. In one hour, I will lead you to the base of Shadowgrove Peak, just outside of Silvergrove. I will leave you there. You will use the light of the full moon to ascend to the top of the mountain - don't be afraid of getting lost or not being able to see. Mother Moon will guide your way and keep you safe. Once you come to the top of the peak, around midnight, the trail will open up into a clearing. Across the clearing, you will clearly see a grove of Silver Firs, after which our commune is named. There, the Weaponsmaster will be waiting for you."

Runaan nodded. "I understand."

"Do not initiate conversation - only speak when he addresses you first. Do you understand?"

"Yes. I understand."

"It is very important that you do exactly as he says without question. Do not interrupt any part of the ritual with inquiries. Trust that it is all for a purpose and all will be revealed in due time."

He nodded again. "How will he know I am there if I don't say anything when I arrive?"

"He will know. He will read your energy. He is the best there is at this craft, Runaan. You can trust him completely."

This wasn't a hard concept to grasp for Runaan - assassin work required complete and total trust, both in the craft and in your comrades. "I will."

"During this ritual, the Weaponsmaster will read your energy and how it connects to Mother Moon. He will use that reading to design and craft a set of weapons customized specifically for your use. Only that way will you have access to the full power of the Moon, both in training and on your missions."

Runaan was no stranger to this truth - while training weapons were charmed to work with most energies, everyone knew that an assassin's true strength, true gift, true talent could only be achieved and measured when he had his or her own set of arms to work with, engineered specifically using Mother Moon's connection to his or her unique primal energy. That was the final step of initiation into the Guild - the day you were bestowed your own set of weapons.

Miran turned and bent to pick up a small bundle of what looked like white linens from the alter. It was only after she handed them to Runaan that he realized what they were - a simple white tunic, loose, white pants, and a towel. He looked at her quizzically.

"Wear only this, and bring with you only that towel. Everything else must be left here, including shoes."

*****

While most people would feel apprehensive about being left alone at the base of a tall mountain at midnight, left to fend for themselves and hike to the top, Runaan felt precisely the opposite - like all Moonshadow elves, he was at his best, and most at ease, while bathed by the full moon. He truly felt nothing could harm him in this moment, as long as he had the protection of Her energy. 

The dirt under his bare feet was soft and supple as he climbed. Cool and moist, he felt it squish between his toes and mold around his heel. He took deep, long breaths as he ascended, his long silver hair hanging down his back in a lose braid, the white cotton of the tunic brushing against his skin. He held the towel loosely in his hands, planting each foot deliberately and with intention, one in front of the other.

The moonlight was so bright it may as well have been day. Owls hooted in the distance, branches glistened with dew against the night sky. He heard trickling water, but didn't know where it came from. All he knew was that he found the sound soothing. 

He made the journey in silence. No mutterings to himself, or musings outloud. Miran had stressed the importance of that.

Finally, after what felt to be a little under two hours, the path began to open. He knew he was close. A few more steps, and the trail opened up into the clearing. He stopped to wipe the sweat from his brow, looked up at the sky and gasped.

The stars were nothing short of spectacular, more numerous than he'd ever seen in his life. Sparkling, milky, glittery streaks painted the sky, while some stars shot quickly across the horizon, burning out as fast as they'd come. Mother Moon was massive, dominating the sky, as if she were hosting a giant, cosmic gathering. He had never imagined seeing something so beautiful in all his life. He stood there, gaping, for too long. He would've preferred to stay forever, but he knew tonight was not the time. Finally, remembering his purpose, he refocused, eyes landing on the Silver Fir grove across the clearing. Nerves bubbled in his chest - no matter how safe Miran swore this was, climbing to a peak at midnight to meet a total stranger, with no backup and no protection was still not the most assuring situation to find oneself in. Instinctively, he reached to place his right hand on the blade on his hip - only to remember that it wasn't there.

He swallowed down the nerves and proceeded across the clearing. When he got to the edge of the grove, he took a long, deep breath, and stepped between the first few trees.

He saw him immediately. Sitting in the lotus position, with his back to Runaan, was a man, another Moonshadow elf. Shaggy silver hair feathered against his collarbone and neck, his horns curved back from his ears, turquoise on the bottom morphing into brown at their points. He was clad in simple Moonshadow garb, a teal and purple sleeveless tunic over gray pants. 

Hesitantly, Runaan padded across the soft grass, wincing a bit when he stepped on small rock. He wasn't sure how close he was supposed to get, so he opted for a safe distance about 10 feet away, then stopped.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

_Do not initiate conversation - only speak when he addresses you first. Do you understand?_

He stood there, awkwardly, waiting to be acknowledged, to no avail. He was just starting to think that maybe Miran had gotten it wrong - maybe this man wouldn't know he was here until he said something - when suddenly, he stirred. Pressing his palm into the grass beneath him, he slowly and deliberately rose to his feet. There was one more long pause, when finally he turned to face Runaan.

Runaan froze.

The other elf was slightly shorter than him, but appeared to be about the same age - around his 25th year, if he had to guess. Sky blue markings descended from his temple over his high cheekbones, matching identical ones on his shoulders and arms. His shaggy hair fell over one eye casually, and his eyes were a deep, chocolate brown. His skin was a lighter purplish-brown, creating a lovely contrast with his Moonshadow markings, and there was a kindness in his face that seemed to pierce Runaan right down to his very soul. He felt a sudden, sharp kick in the pelvis, and couldn't stop the small gasp that filtered through his dry lips.

He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting from the Weaponsmaster. But it hadn't been this.

The other elf stared at him intently, and Runaan suddenly felt agonizingly self conscious. Lack of confidence had never been a problem for him, in any aspect of his life, but he found himself suddenly fighting the very strong urge to look away, to hide the blush that he knew was blooming on his cheeks. Stupidly, he remembered back to 5 minutes prior, when he'd been looking up at the night sky, gazing upon what he was sure was the most beautiful sight to see in all the world.

Until now.

There was a long, swelling, billowing silence. Finally, to Runaan's extreme relief, the other elf spoke.

"You must be Runaan."

He had a soft brogue, typical of the Silvergrove elves. He shuddered at how his name had sounded on his tongue. He managed to remain composed enough to nod.

"I am."

The Weaponsmaster moved closer, narrowing the gap between them. Runaan's heart thumped in his chest. He was no stranger to seeing, or even enjoying the intimate company of, beautiful men, but he couldn't recall ever reacting quite so strongly, quite so suddenly. He could only hope against hope that it wasn't externally obvious.

After a moment more studying Runaan's face, the Weaponsmaster granted him a small smile, seemingly satisfied. He nodded.

"Follow me."

He turned on his heel and started down a path splitting through the grove. Runaan gave a rough swallow and followed suit, grateful that the Weaponsmaster had his back to him.

They walked in silence for a while, seemingly descending. Miran's warning not to initiate conversation rang in his ears, and he stayed silent, despite the myriad of questions burning on his tongue - _where are we going? Is it far? What is this ritual? How long will we be there?_

_What's your name?_

He shifted his gaze between his own feet, the trees, and the sky as they walked - anything to keep them off the other man. A deep shame began to burn in his belly as he reminded himself how deeply inappropriate this all was. No matter how beautiful he found the Weaponsmaster, that didn't change the fact that they were here for purely professional, if not sacred, purposes. 

His resolve strengthened, he brought his gaze back to his bare toes just in time to notice that the other elf had stopped abruptly, a foot or so below him. He barely caught himself in time to avoid crashing right into him. Unfortunately, that meant looking at him. Their gaze locked.

"My apologies," he offered politely. 

There was a brief moment where something seemed to flicker in the Weaponmaster's gaze, but it was gone too quickly to harp on. Instead, he held out his hand to Runaan.

"Watch yer step," he said softly, gesturing with his head down to a tricky knot of gnarled roots that created a step down on the path. 

Wanting to seem as normal as possible, Runaan placed his own hand in the other man's, his heart hammering against his ribcage. He hoped the Weaponsmaster couldn't feel his pulse through his wrist. His eyebrows shot up as it registered just how soft the other elf's hands were - not at all the calloused, rough, dry touch he would've expected from a smith. 

He stepped down carefully, and they continued on, the other elf finally letting his hand go after a few more steps. Runaan schooled his features expertly to hide his disappointment, his gaze falling on the Weaponmaster's shoulders - just as his own were lean and sculpted and well-muscled after 15 years of perfecting his own craft, the same could be said for the other elf as well. He had no doubt spent every moment of easily the same amount of time perfecting his own.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they stepped all the way down into another clearing, where a crystal clear, sparkling pond glistened in the moonlight. They both approached it in silence, Runaan flexing his toes in the cool, soft grass beneath his feet. There was something comforting and tethering about doing so.

After a beat of silence, the Weaponsmaster turned to him. Runaan thought he saw him swallow nervously.

"I'll need ye to undress," he said quietly.

Runaan stared at him.

_He can't be serious._

"Wh...I..."

The other elf flashed a small smile. "It's part of the ritual. Don't worry; ye clothes will be returned to ye afterwards."

Runaan had never felt so frozen to the spot in his life. He stared, wide eyed, at his companion. The Weaponsmaster let out a small chuckle, reassuringly, sparing him the horror of having to find words.

"If it helps, there's nary an assassin in the Moonshadow Guild, man or woman, who I haven't seen naked by now. Ye'll be in good company."

Something about him laughing made Runaan suddenly feel that it was okay for him to laugh, too, which mercifully seemed to break - to a certain degree - the granite wall of tension that had been building between them. He felt red heat flush his cheeks, and averted his eyes, handing him his towel and then pulling at the string around his middle. 

He did everything possible to avoid the Weaponmaster's gaze as he lifted the shirt over his head. Then, finally, he loosened the drawstring of his pants, stepping out of them, fully exposed in the cool night air. Still not looking at him in the eyes, he held the rest of the clothing out to the other man.

He felt him take the clothes and turn away, and watched as he folded them carefully, diligently, with the same care and devotion one would use to swaddle a newborn baby. He delicately placed them on a tree stump. He felt a strong urge to cover himself somehow, but could feel on some basic, primal level that that wasn't how this worked - absolute vulnerability seemed to be a requirement here.

The other elf turned back to him, and Runaan could see his throat bobbing slightly. He cleared it.

"Lie down," he instructed. "Don't worry, the grass is soft."

He obeyed, just for the distraction. Anything was better than standing naked in front of the most beautiful man he'd ever seen in his entire life, at a time where that should have been the absolute last thing on his mind. 

Feeling the cool grass press against his back was calming, reassuring. He took in a deep breath, and then exhaled.

The Weaponsmaster knelt down next to him. Runaan swallowed hard, willing his body not to have a perhaps natural, but still deeply inappropriate, reaction to this whole thing. 

"Close yer eyes," the other elf whispered. 

Runaan obeyed.

"I'm going to read yer primal energy now," the other man explained softly. "I'm going to hold my hands over yer body, starting with yer head and working down to yer toes. I'll imprint what I need. Is that okay?"

Runaan nodded, not trusting his voice.

"Just lie still."

After a few moments, he felt a soft, soothing tingle at the crown of his head. It began to descend over his face and ears, then his neck, before traveling down the remainder of his body - arms, hands, torso, pelvis, legs, feet. When the last of the tingling left his toes, he opened his eyes.

The Weaponsmaster smiled down at him and Runaan's breath hitched in his chest. In that moment, he realized there was very little he wouldn't do to see that smile regularly. 

He held his hand out for Runaan to take. 

"Ye can get up," he explained. 

He didn't really need the other elf's help to stand, but he also wasn't going to turn down another opportunity to feel this touch. Again, he marveled at the softness of his palm as the Weaponsmaster helped him to his feet. 

They stared at each other for a moment, then both seemed to catch themselves doing so at the same time. The Weaponsmaster quickly turned towards the pond, holding his arm out in an inviting gesture.

"Whenever yer ready, ye can step into the pond."

Runaan nodded, approaching the edge of the water, carefully stepping in with his right foot, then his left. It was cool but not unpleasantly so; he slowly begin to wade further in, trusting the other man to tell him when he'd gone deep enough. 

He was in just slightly over his waist, his feet padding over slimy pebbles and mud, when he heard that familiar brogue:

"That's deep enough. Ye can stop."

He stopped, turning to look at him. The moonlight reflecting off the pond was so bright he almost had to squint. The Weaponsmaster held up his hands, one directed towards him, one directed up at Mother Moon.

"This pool is one of the most potent sources of primal energy in Xadia. It has a deep and special connection to Mother Moon. I'm going to recite an incantation now that will allow me to read how yer primal energy connects to Her. Try to relax. Ye can move if ye need to. The more natural and relaxed ye feel, the better reading I can take."

Runaan almost laughed at this. Nothing about being in this beautiful stranger's presence was relaxing. Elating, yes. Enthralling, yes. Relaxing? No.

Nonetheless, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to focus on the coolness of the water and the energy of the moonlight. He imagined the feeling of being given his own weapons, imprinted with his own personal energy, and the future that would hold. For a moment, he allowed himself to get lost in thoughts other than the Weaponsmaster - so much so that he didn't even register the soft incantation charm he was performing.

Suddenly, a white hot, burning sensation shot up from his toes, engulfing his legs and racing up to his torso. He gasped in pain, eyes flying open and looking desperately at the other elf, whose hands were still raised, his lips still moving, eyes closed. The burning washed over his arms and up his neck, shooting into his head. He was just about to cry out in panic when the Weaponsmaster opened his eyes, and spoke in the most soothing, calming voice imaginable.

"Submerge yerself," he said gently, locking his gaze with Runaan's. "Now."

He immediately acquiesced, allowing himself to sink beneath the water. Instantly the burning sensation ceased, replaced by a cool, tingling, aching relief. He pushed back up, breaking the surface, feeling a current of energy coursing through his body in a way that felt nothing short of exquisite. Amazed, eyes wide, he looked up at the other man, panting, overwhelmed.

The Weaponsmaster smiled. "Connecting to Mother Moon that deeply can be intense. If I warn ye about it, ye tense up and get too nervous anticipating it."

Runaan laughed. He didn't know whether or not it was appropriate to do so, but it seemed to be the only natural reaction. The other elf smiled warmly. 

"Ye can come out whenever yer ready."

Runaan waded back through the water, stepping up out of the pond, still seeming to vibrate from the release of energy. The Weaponsmaster was waiting for him at the edge of the pool, holding the neatly folded towel and his clothes.

"Ye can dry off and get dressed." He turned away respectfully to allow him to do so. Runaan loosened his long hair from its braid, now messy and disheveled, and squeezed the extra water out of the soaked strands, toweling them as dry as possible, combing his fingers through them and letting them fall limply yet neatly over his shoulders. He quickly toweled off the rest of his naked form and stepped back into his pants, tying them up, and shimmying back into his tunic.

The Weaponsmaster seemed to sense when he was decent, and turned back to face him. "There's only one last thing to do," he said. He reached down to his wrist, where a silver ribbon was wrapped around it. It reminded Runaan strongly of the silver cord used to bind assassins to their mission.

The other man stepped up close to him, until their toes were practically touching. Runaan's heart flew into his throat. The temptation to get lost in his eyes was strong, but he managed to school his features into something indiscernible. The other elf held out his right hand.

"Take hold of my wrist with your left hand," he said gently. 

Runaan obliged. The other elf draped the cord over their joined hands and wrists, hovering his free hand above them.

"Every assassin needs to be bound to the forger of their weapons," he explained. "When our energies are bound like this, I can tap into it while I'm creating yer set. This will ensure ye have the highest quality of protection ye can possibly possess." He looked up into Runaan's eyes. "The cord will wrap our hands together and then dissolve to form the bond." 

"Like a marriage ceremony." The words were out before he could stop himself. He instantly blushed and looked away, but he could still feel the other man's stare drilling into him.

"Yes," he acknowledged. "Almost exactly like that." He paused. "Are ye ready?"

Against his better judgment, he forced himself to look back into his eyes. "I am."

The Weaponsmaster gently laid his free hand on their joined hands, whispering another incantation Runaan didn't understand. He watched intently as the silver cord began to grow, wrapping itself tightly but not painfully around their wrists. The glow continued to intensify as the incantation ended, and then suddenly, was gone as quick as it came as the cord seemingly evaporated into thin air.

They stood there, hands joined, wrists bound, long after the cord disappeared.

The Weaponsmaster seemed to be the first to remember basic propriety, and pulled his hand away - but even Runaan could see that he was hesitant to do so. He finally found the courage to ask his very first question of the evening.

"Is that it?"

The other man smiled and nodded, almost a little sadly. "That's it. I have everything I need, now."

Runaan nodded, also a little regretfully. "What do we do now?"

"We return to the village," the Weaponsmaster replied. "Ye can follow me."

The hike back up the grove, through the clearing, and down the mountain was faster than the hike up, but that was to be expected. For some reason, it hadn't registered to Runaan that of course the Weaponsmaster lived in the village as well - for some reason, he almost seemed to be an ethereal creature who inhabited the mountain top full-time. The moon began to wane as they made their way down in silence - Runaan wasn't sure if it was okay to speak now, but he was still following the other man's lead, so he opted to hold his tongue. 

They were just a short distance from the main road when he realized that only one of his earlier burning questions remained woefully unanswered - by far the most important one. Taking a risk, he drew in a breath.

"Am I allowed to ask you something?"

The other man turned around, flashing that dazzling smile up at him once again. "Of course."

"What's your name?"

The Weaponsmaster seemed not to be anticipating this question. He raised his eyebrows. Runaan blushed.

"Just...well, you did see me completely naked an hour ago. I think I deserve to know your name. No?" He hoped the attempt at humor would be appreciated.

To his great relief, it appeared that it was. The Weaponsmaster smiled at him warmly, and even in the moonlight, there was no mistaking the pink dusting across his cheeks.

"I'm Ethari."

"Ethari?"

He nodded, before turning back to continue down the final steps of the trail. Runaan followed, and once again, the words tumbled out before he could stop himself.

"That's a beautiful name. Ethari."

Ethari slowed in his tracks, but didn't turn back around to look at him.

*****

"Do ye know the key?"

Runaan followed Ethari up onto the large tree root that he knew overlooked Silvergrove's entrance, once again wiping the heel of his palm over his brow, brushing aside the loose silver strands clinging to his damp forehead. He shook his head.

"Miran performed it to bring me in last night, but I have yet to master it."

Runaan nodded. "I figured that was the case. She'll likely break down the steps for ye in the next few days." He paused, his gaze shifting slightly. "I would be happy to show ye as well."

That option was far preferable, but not wanting to seem too eager, Runaan merely nodded. Ethari held out his hand.

"Take me hand."

Runaan didn't need to be asked twice. He immediately obliged. The other man's touch was quickly becoming addicting, and his heart skipped a beat when he thought about how much he was undoubtedly going to be feeling it over the next few weeks.

Ethari drew him in closer. "I can do the first bit. I'll just need ye at the end."

Runaan nodded, watching intently as Ethari closed his eyes, centering his energy. Then, he began to move. Graceful movements that would've been enchanting performed by anyone, but were downright mesmerizing done by him. As he stepped around him, planting his feet delicately yet deliberately, the silver insignia lit up beneath them, making way for the sparkling, silver wall of energy that began to swirl around them. Finally, not breaking his movements, Ethari opened his eyes and held out his palm.

"Now you."

Runaan cleared his throat awkwardly, before lifting his palm to press against the other elf's. Slowly, they began to move in a circle around each other, spinning the energy around them to potent levels. The wall began to expand, cresting like a wave away from them, flowing freely over the trees, rocks, and stream. Lights began to appear, shapes began to form, and the next thing Runaan knew, they were back in Silvergrove, staring at the sleeping commune in silence.

It took a moment for them to both realize their palms were still joined. Runaan reluctantly dropped his hand, hoping to maintain some sense of professional boundaries. 

They stood there in silence for a long while, not saying anything, just staring out over the grove. Runaan knew that there was nothing left for him to do other than go home and rest, but was desperately trying to think of an excuse - any excuse at all - not to do that. He wondered if Ethari was doing the same.

If he was, he didn't betray it. He finally turned back to Runaan and spoke.

"The sun will be up soon. Ye'll need the day to recover from the ritual."

Runaan nodded in acknowledgment, but granted him a small smile. "I'm not sure I could sleep now even if I wanted to."

Ethari laughed softly. "Fatigue will come later. For now just bathe, eat, and rest. Tomorrow morning, an hour after sunrise, have Miran bring ye to my workshop. Make sure yer well rested - we'll have a long day ahead of us."

He hopped down from the tree root, once again holding his hand out to help Runaan do the same. Once again, he didn't really need it, but that was hardly relevant.

He landed softly next to him, his feet sinking into the cool grass. "I look forward to it," he said softly, hoping that it wasn't too forward.

Ethari smiled. "Likewise." There it was again - that soft dusting of pink on his beautiful face. 

"Goodnight, Runaan," he said, granting him one last smile before turning and walking away. Runaan stared after him in a way that he hoped didn't look too transparently longing, before finally whispering, more to himself than to anyone else:

"Goodnight, Ethari."

He turned on his heel and began the walk home, the ache in his chest growing heavier with each step.

**The End**


End file.
